


Peace

by Davechicken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Again set in Paradiso!Verse but can be read as a standalone.</p><p>Castiel has a gift for Crowley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Paradiso](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056561) by [Davechicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken), [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF). 



Crowley looked up. One minute he was doing the normal hellishly mundane (pun most certainly intended) work and not under any circumstances using his phone to surf videos of people falling down holes and laughing to himself, and the next he was in a familiar building with an unfamiliar layout. It was the Winchester's lovely little bolt hole - of course - (no one summoned him anywhere else these days) but instead of lifting his eyes to find Castiel already making sultry faces from their bed... Cas had called him back into the dungeon. 

"Something you want to discuss, my scrumptious little muffin?" he asked, sliding his phone into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket without blinking. "You do know I get reception at work and you don't have to resort to brute force? I _will_ come when _you_ ask." And yes. The double-entendre rich in his voice was most certainly intended.

"I know you will," Cas replied, his voice never wavering from that level, even delivery that sometimes made the hairs on the back of Crowley's neck rise. "But that was not the point today."

Crowley spread his hands wide and shrugged. "In that case, please enlighten me."

Castiel's eyes flickered down and Crowley found his own followed them unbidden. Ah. A demon trap. Alright... 

"...kinky, angel. And here was me thinking you had called me for coffee and a mutual mani-pedi."

"Perhaps another day." There was no trace of sarcasm in his tone, but Crowley knew Castiel better than that. And Crowley's tone carried enough sneer for both of them, and always would.

"So... what?"

Castiel nodded off to one side, and Crowley saw that there was a sturdy mahogany table sitting there. Atop it there was a neat little arrangement of various implements which looked - frankly - like something taken straight from the old style Hell. Not the angel's usual tools, to be fair. And behind them all was a single flower - a red carnation - standing proud in a slender glass vase. 

"My, I _have_ been rubbing off on you, haven't I?" Crowley was impressed. It looked as though his lover had done his research. "But why the flower? Did you think it wouldn't be romantic enough without it? Because - Cas - I think by now we've well and truly gone beyond the nervous first dances... though if you want to court me..."

Castiel just waited for the words to fade on his lips, letting him say what he needed to. Only then did he smile. It was a tiny little affair - a quirk of his perfect lips - but Crowley knew it came from deep inside. "I know you won't want to admit defeat. I know you are proud, Crowley. But I refuse to do this without giving you the chance to say 'no'."

"...a safeword?"

"A safe... flower. All you must do is fade the red to white and I shall stop. You never need to say it aloud, and we never need do this again if you do not wish it."

"I find your confidence in your ability to inflict pain... adorable." Crowley cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "I crawled up through the ranks on bloodied hands and knees, Cas. A little angelic flagellation is unlikely to break a sweat... although if it makes you feel better I can scream your father's name as you flail like a tantruming teenager and--"

Much to his surprise Castiel clicked his fingers and Crowley found the voice in his throat died. His lips continued to work, but no sound came out. Crowley frowned in consternation, gesturing impatiently for Cas to undo the trick.

"You talk too much, demon. You always talk too much. It's about time someone shut you up." 

That made Crowley start... the tone in his angel's voice was... well. Powerful. Sure. Commanding.

Dominant.

His eyes slanted and he peered over at him, conveying his surprise with just his expression.

"Now... do you consent? Is the flower adequate protection, or do you need more?"

Crowley waved at his mouth to remind Cas that - duh - he couldn't currently speak. This did not have the desired effect of getting the spell revoked, however, and so he stomped his foot petulantly. Castiel stared back at him, an immoveable object in front of his (almost) irresistible force. They stood at an impasse for what was an uncomfortably long period of time during which Crowley tried to work out if there was some way to escape the demon trap and smack Castiel around the head until he stopped dicking around. Nothing came to mind and Crowley realised with something sinking in his chest that he did have an option... well... two. He could either consent or change the flower and that would be the end of it.

And it would. He had no doubt that it would. He would fade the flower pink then white, bleeding the colour out into the water below... and Castiel would break the demon trap and that would be the end of it and Crowley would make some snide little joke and they would go off and... something... or Crowley would just vanish away in a fit of pique and then... and then...

His chest heaved with the weight of the moment. It was a simple thing, but it was... it...

Crowley nodded. Once. Mutely. And he lowered his eyes, embarrassed by his own admission.

"Good. You have nothing to fear, Crowley. I know what you require... and I intend to give it to you."

Without his tongue, Crowley could not launch the abusive response to that, so he settled for an indignant little snort. Then he took a step back when Castiel walked into the circle on the floor towards him, eyes confused.

"Do not be afraid," Castiel continued, walking up close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. Crowley's hands itched with the need to move. To do. To... anything.

Castiel held his hand out and waited. Crowley stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before he worked out Cas wanted him to offer up his own hand. Again he resisted. Again Cas waited. 

"Do not be afraid," the angel repeated. "I am doing this for you, love. It will be good. At least... I hope it will be good." The slightest trace of the awkwardness Crowley found so endearing creased the lines around his angel's eyes. "But I can only do it if you allow it."

Knowing that Cas was at least a little nervous too helped, strangely. Crowley raised his right hand and held it out. Cas held it with one of his own, then out of nowhere came a heavy metal cuff that snicked into place and closed with a heavy finality. Crowley could feel the burn of the sigils marking the surface without needing to look. It sort of itched and made him uncomfortable but also... also it was reassuringly firm. There would be no willing his way out of the restraint, no magicking out as he could have done with any number of other toys Cas might have opted for. He lifted his left hand faster and was relieved when a second cuff was locked into place. 

"You are beautiful," Cas whispered, holding his hands palm-upright on his own. Two careful thumbs stroked over Crowley's and sent shivery little threads of pleasure up through his arms to his core. Crowley stared down at where Cas was touching him. It was the simplest of contact, but it felt... resonant, somehow. He stared down at his palms and wondered how Cas could consider his hands to be beautiful. They were just hands. Just his hands, too. He knew how to pull pleasure from his lover with them, knew how to make Cas scream and buck but... hands...

Cas lifted his right hand and coiled Crowley's hand into a loose fist. He pressed a whisper-soft kiss to the knuckles, then with a thought there were chains snaking slowly down from the ceiling. Crowley was infinitely grateful that neither of them was mortal because it really did make life just so much easier. The chain dangled before his eyes and Crowley lifted his wrist obediently and waited for Cas to attach the cuffs to the links. That done, the chain cranked tighter with the sound of metal teeth on gears and pulled his arms above his head. He didn't have to stretch to cope, but he didn't have the freedom to wander, now. The best he would be able to do would be lift his feet and swing as a dead weight, a pendulum. But that was fine.

"I know why you removed the racks from Hell, Crowley. You told me yourself. Do you remember? I do."

Crowley lifted his head to meet Cas' eyes, but he didn't need to nod to say yes, he remembered. He knew it was all there in his eyes. He remembered. He remembered bringing his angel - not his angel then, no - bringing his angel home to show him the marvellous things he'd accomplished. Showing off. Showing him his home. Showing him his masterpiece. Trying to win him over, in more ways than one. Oh, he remembered alright.

Castiel lifted one hand and laid it flat on his cheek. Crowley felt like his skin was burning up from the sudden attention. Castiel had this... way... of making him feel like he was the only thing in creation. It was foolish, really, but still. Those piercing, beautiful blue eyes that had seen more of existence than he ever would. Those eyes that saw past the trappings, past the lies, past everything. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to deflect the sudden gaze with easy words and harder touches of his own. Crowley felt... laid bare in nothing but a look.

"I didn't understand it at the time. I didn't understand the need... the need for punishment, or the need for forgiveness. I was too..." His angel's lips quirk again. "I was too proud. I was not humble. I did not understand the depth of my sin, and in my ignorance I misunderstood you, too. But... not any more."

The hand on his face stayed there, but Crowley saw movement from the corner of his eyes. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help but turn his eyes and see the swirl of a demon-blade in Cas' other hand. It caught the scattered light and seemed to glow with an evil intent all of its own and Crowley felt his stomach drop.

...this was dangerous. Truly. He didn't get to be King of all Hell by ignoring threats to his personal safety. Crowley had always been one step ahead of anything which wanted to do him harm, and it had served him well through the years. But here he was in the middle of a demon trap in the house belonging to two Hunters who had made it their personal mission over the years to cause him no end of trouble... trapped by an angel of the Lord in cuffs he'd consented to, with a knife inches from his face with the ability to cause untold - permanent - damage. His eyes flashed with fear before he could think to school it down.

"Yes," Castiel said, his voice hushed. "I am going to hurt you, Crowley. I will."

He pulled back, walking as far away as the chains holding him up would allow. Cas' hand fell from his face, but the angel didn't make any other move. Crowley shook his head in protest, his mouth dry. His tongue ran over his lips and he tried once more to speak, the panic starting to rise higher in his throat.

Castiel merely tilted his head once. In the direction of the flower. Crowley stared at it.

Red. Red like blood. Red like heat and fire. Red like...

His eyes jammed shut and he breathed slowly to try and calm himself down. Breathing was not essential, but sometimes it helped to focus on the physical. Sometimes it helped to focus on the things you could control. He waited until the hammering in his chest slowed to a heavy thud, then he opened his eyes and stared at the flower. Still red. Then he looked up to Cas.

"Good." 

The knife-edge kissed against his cheekbone and stroked slowly down over his jowl. It made a rough sound against the stubble he'd not had the heart to rid himself of, and down over his throat like a razor cleaning his flesh. Crowley clutched at the heavy links above his head and tried not to shake under the touch. 

"I am going to hurt you, Crowley. And you want that, don't you?"

Crowley was surprised to hear the sound of his own voice gasping in anguished pleasure, but there it was. Cas had hold of the end of his tie and he pulled it taut around his throat even as the knife snicked through the fabric and left his throat feeling bereft and empty. Cas pulled the dead noose from his neck and let go. It slithered down over his chest and fell somewhere between his feet. Crowley felt naked without it. His throat felt horribly exposed. 

Cas didn't wait, though. The knife scratched down over the front of his shirt, popping buttons off with a sickeningly twee sound. Crowley would burn whole cities for the insult to his wardrobe were it anyone but Castiel. Still, his eyes watered to see the buttons fall to the floor like little drops of blood. Cas was baring him by degrees, stripping all the protective layers he'd cocooned himself with, and he was helpless to let him.

A hand on his head pushed it up and he looked up - eyes lost - and was surprised when Cas held the blade to his lips sideways on. He hesitated then opened up and clamped teeth and lips around it carefully when it became clear what Cas wanted. He held the knife patiently as Cas' fingers pushed back the stiff, fine fabrics from the front of his chest. He couldn't remove the shirt or jacket because of the cuffs around his wrists, but he didn't need to. Crowley already felt as naked as the day he was born. When Cas held his hand in front of Crowley's mouth he obediently let go of the knife like a present.

"Thank you." 

Two simple words and they hit like a jack-hammer to his chest. Crowley reeled under the weight of it. He grunted a little 'you're welcome' and lifted his eyes to Cas'. Cas was not the one who should be saying those words, and Crowley knew it. He knew this was Castiel's gift to him and he was grateful.

The knife stroked over his chest, toying over the lines he knew were underneath. They followed the flow of bone, blood and muscle, never hard enough to hurt and just sharp enough to sting. Crowley closed his eyes and just... felt. He felt the caress and the love in the threat, infinitely aware of the sound of Castiel's vessel and his own. The sounds were grounding, familiar. He never really _listened_ to them, normally. They were always just... there.

"Are you ready for me to hurt you?" Cas asked.

Crowley didn't even hesitate. He nodded furiously hard. He was. He was more than ready. He looked up at Castiel and made sure his angel saw how sure he was.

Cas cupped his face and bent to kiss his lips, the chastest, purest, glance of flesh on flesh. Crowley shook with need, frustrated but resigned when Cas pulled away. He was dimly aware that the knife was making light work of the fine fabrics hanging from his wrists and feathering over his back like broken wings. The shirt and jacket fell - bloodless offerings - and left him naked from the waist up. The room was cold.

His angel walked over to the table and laid the knife down, drawing up a flogger instead. Crowley eyed it with interest, memorising the way the red suede tails rustled together and fell like a waterfall of need from the hefty handle in his angel's grip. 

Crowley braced his legs at shoulder-width, feeling the tug on his shoulders as he gave up some height for more stability. It was a pleasant stretch, though. It wasn't painful. Not in the slightest.

The first stroke was barely there, and Crowley felt the bubbling need to snark out 'Is that all?' but it was followed by another. And another. His angel might not have done this before, but that meant nothing. Clearly he was either a natural or he'd been taking lessons, because the tongues of leather alternately stroked like a lover and stung like the crack of lightning over his stretched shoulder-blades. The pain was an easy thud and a careful snap and just this side of painful to be a pleasant blur of sensation. 

Crowley swayed under the strokes, arching onto the balls of his feet and then falling back down again. Wave after wave that pulled him up and down, up and down... until he was nothing but sensation, nothing but an extension of Castiel's movement and will. His heart soared with how good and right and wonderful it felt, and the words inside his head turned into a run of 'thankyouthankyouthankyou's that rang through his chest like bells pealing in a church tower.

Dimly he became aware of the strokes becoming slower and gentler, winding down until they were barely there. His whole back was alight with tingling, pleasant fire and his mind was... calmer. He smiled at the soft angel-kisses to his pinkening hide, the almost-wet touch making his stomach clench into uncomfortably nice knots. 

"I know you need to be punished," Castiel said, his words blowing over Crowley's back like the faintest spring breeze. "I know you feel you must atone." Warm hands on his hips, holding him steady to the ever-spinning earth. Holding him. Holding tight. "I know you want it so very badly that you denied it to anyone in Hell, because you know how good it feels to want it." 

The words making him feel uncomfortable again, pushing through the pleasure-haze, the sunset on the horizon just the last blink before the night set in with all its cold, empty fury. Crowley stirred, restless against those hands that had a moment ago felt so right.

"Well I will forgive you, demon. I will forgive you. You will atone at my feet. You will beg for mercy and you will burn with your need to please me. And I will forgive you. And _you_ will forgive you. And you will accept the pleasure you find in pain, instead of denying yourself. Do you understand me?"

Crowley tried to run away. He knew he couldn't get anywhere, but it didn't stop him. He tried to run from the hands holding his hips still and he managed just a few steps before the restraints checked his progress and those hands pulled him back. His angel kept tugging and Crowley was helpless to resist, pressed chest-to-chest with his tormentor. Pain was fine. Pain was wonderful. The emotional honesty... was not.

Fingers pressed hard enough into his hips to bruise and the bright-nova shock of it made his knees weak, but those hands held him up even as his body buckled. He wanted to kneel. He needed to kneel. To crawl. To get away. Anything. Cas held on and Crowley bucked, fighting for all he was worth. His mouth split in a silent scream, he thrashed and thrashed and kicked and snarled voicelessly, screaming abuse and hatred and poison in his head. His angel just kept on holding him until finally, finally...

He turned his head to the flower in the vase.

Castiel turned, too. But instead of red or even white, the flower burned as though it was sitting in an oil lamp, blazing violet flames that didn't consume the petals underneath at all.

Crowley felt the release around his words just as Cas turned back.

"You need me to stop?"

"Don't. You. Dare."

Crowley was surprised how his gruff words seemed to spark something so pure and joyful in his lover, but they did. Cas looked... Cas looked like Crowley had just offered him the moon on a stick with the world as a side-thought. He couldn't bear to keep looking at him, so he dropped his head submissively, lips sealing back shut. 

"I won't."

Castiel paced back over to the table and he laid the flogger down. This time the thing he picked up looked more wicked still. Crowley knew that any of the toys his partner had chosen - barring the demon knife - would barely hurt him if he chose to block them out. Well. Unless Cas chose to pour holy water all over them. But it was the principle of the thing. This time his angel had picked up a crop. It was all stark, sharp, snapping lines and a little curl of leather tongue at the end. Castiel flexed it experimentally then went to stand behind him. 

Crowley moved to stand centrally again, legs braced as before. He was gratified to feel the angel cheating this time and vanishing away the remainder of his clothing. Without it, he stood proud and naked before him. His cock - now unhindered - rose proudly from between his thighs and ached from the lack of attention... but this wasn't about his cock, and they both knew that. It was about so much more.

Castiel stroked slow, lazy circles over his ass and Crowley bit his lip impatiently. He arched into the touch, begging for more with just his body. When he didn't think he could wait a moment more...

"... _please_ , Cas, please..."

"Of course."

The first snap was hard. Hard and sharp and it jarred him and made him taste blood that was never in his mouth to begin with. Crowley laughed with broken glee, and the second one was harder still. They rained down like a summer storm, cracking into the thick muscles of his ass and the tender space above his thighs and the curve just before ass met back. He bent at the waist as much as he could, offering himself to Castiel's expert ministrations. Each bite of nylon and leather and stiff plastic driving the pain in and everything else out. It was good. It was better than good. It hurt and it hurt and Crowley was flying over it all, the sharp sensations turning into fireworks behind his eyes, but fireworks he saw from above. Like he could see into his own head and all the synapses firing were just a show in the dark, a celebration of life and death and good and evil and everything was here and he was so far but he could _see_ it and _taste_ it and his angel was doing this - all this - for him.

"Yes!" he cried out in bliss. "OhGODyes... angel... angel..."

The strokes got faster, messier. Crowley couldn't tell if it was because his angel was struggling, or if it was because he knew it had to be this way. It had to be messy. It wasn't clean, precise, neat, surgical. It was a horrible, gaping, hungry maw inside him. It was a dark maelstrom of emotion and want and need. The drumbeats on his hide turned staccato and erratic, and he was panting and struggling and needing and feeling and it rose up inside him and just... just when it was almost enough...

...the chains suddenly released and Crowley dropped to his knees, panting and shaking. It jolted all the way from his kneecaps up to his heart. His hands fall before him - palms up - supplicating. A hand on his head tilted his face back and he mewled in rapture as a third band of metal stole around his throat and clasped into place. The collar marked him. Marked him as owned. Marked him as taken and claimed. Marked him as Castiel's. He pressed into the hand and sighed in pleasure, the flame around the flower licking out to scorch the ceiling. 

"Beg me," Cas said.

"Please..." Crowley answered, all sharp tone gone and nothing but want and happiness and pleasure left colouring his words. "Please, Cas... forgive me..."

"And what else?"

His eyes were stinging with tears and Crowley struggled to push more words out, but the tone in his lover's voice demanded nothing but utter obedience. "Please," he added, "...make... make it right... make it... good... make..." So hard, but the compassion in Castiel's beautiful face, the burning heat of his ass, the gentle touch to his scalp... "...make _me_ good... and love me."

"On one condition," Cas replied with infinite patience.

"Anything."

"That you do the same for me."

Crowley was about to answer that he would, when Castiel slipped his cock between his lips instead, and the demon decided he could answer this with his body as easily as he could his words. Perhaps better. He relaxed his throat and opened wide and gazed up to see Cas looking down at him. They understood one another perfectly in that moment, without need for words or trickery. Crowley knew Cas loved him with all he was... enough even to give him the degradation and humiliation and pain he needed to feel free. Things he was sure had weighed on his angel's mind at first, before he'd come to terms with it. It had been there in the get-out clauses. It had been there in the way he'd carefully made sure this was good and right, and that made Crowley burn all the more with adoration for him.

And Crowley loved him back. Crowley loved him back enough to let him see this side of him, to let him bind his body as tightly as he bound his heart and soul. He trusted his angel with all he was and all he could be, and as the fingers curled behind his ears and the words washed over him in cooing, gentle waves of encouragement, Crowley felt peace at long last.

He swallowed on the deal, taking his lover's promise down his throat and into his belly. It pooled there like an oasis of calm inside of him, and when the angel pulled him back to his feet to share a kiss Crowley was only too happy to comply. They traded back and forth, pushing and pulling, giving and taking and Crowley was almost saddened by the hand on his own straining cock, stroking him ever more urgently towards the end. He wanted this feeling - this freedom - to go on forever.

But it couldn't. And it wouldn't. And Castiel swallowed down his wordless protest the same way Crowley had swallowed down his. The hand behind his head kept his boneless body up and Crowley just... floated in Cas' arms. He heard him scrub a toe through the sigil on the floor, felt Cas scoop him up like he weighed nothing and hold him in his arms. He smiled and pushed his face into the crook of his neck, cuffed hands finding an arm and holding on.

"Let me take you to bed," Cas suggested.

"Yes. Please do."

"Do you want me to take these off?" Cas asked, running a finger over one of the metal bands.

"Maybe later."

"Alright. As you wish." 

Crowley sighed heavily and let his angel take him home. There was nowhere he would rather be right now, and the heavy, trapped cuffs and collar didn't feel like a burden or a noose at all.


End file.
